


Demon That I Am

by azureheavens



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (Almost) Everyone Lives AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Bisexual Claude von Riegan, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaptered, Edeleth and Dimiclaude will be endgame, F/F, Lesbian Byleth, M/M, Multi, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Romance, Slow burn friendship, Verdant Wind route, Work In Progress, but the plot is Claude and Byleth's friendship, or lack thereof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22881802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureheavens/pseuds/azureheavens
Summary: The Ashen Demon. A nickname that wasn’t undeserved.Her life as a mercenary taught her how to do a job and get it done quick. Her stoicism made people think she was unfeeling, so she believed the same of herself.But in the night she dreams of fire and blood, a glowing sword in her hand pointed at priests and rulers. When she finally meets the three lords, the sight of them brings feelings of loyalty and fear that scorch her frozen heart. She cannot bear to look at them, for she only sees their death.All except one.Now she is a professor to the Golden Deer. The visions grow more intense, more confusing. Moon by moon, they pull her to a future she isn't sure she wants. But time will not reverse. Each choice she makes will last, but none of them feel in her control.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 46
Kudos: 116





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially joining the "Let's Rewrite FE3H To My Superior Specifications" crew and I'm happy to be here! I've played the main three routes, but I felt there were some things lacking. I've always been one for big elaborate fics, so this is just more of the same for me.
> 
> Claude is my absolute fav but he spent too long calling Byleth “friend” for me to ship them romantically, thus a slow burn friendship. I'll try to include as many characters as I can, and please subscribe if you enjoy my work!

A cracked stone throne atop towering stairs. Inky blackness filling the landscape, the horizon trimmed with red.

If she lay still, she made no sound. She would simply float in the sticky red pool, her eyes fixed on the blank sky above. Voices whispered from far away. Or perhaps so close to her ears that it was impossible to pick out.

“…these things happen in war…”

It was never the same voice, the same words.

“…I always knew...losing meant death…”

Some dripped with regret. Others broiled with revenge.

“…all I needed to hear to finally work up the resolve to kill you…!”

The words crawled over her skin like the liquid enveloping her. But what could she do? The voices were never connected to anyone she had met. No one she was close to, though she wasn’t close to many. In truth, as often as it came, this was one of her more peaceful dreams.

On other nights,

It went like this:

Metal clashed. Beasts roared. Crumpled bodies littered a muddy, swollen battlefield. Pulses of scarlet light threw off flames while soldiers screamed in agony. A grand finale, or the new beginning, paid for by the blood of thousands in the dead of night.

A large, muscular man strutted through the war. Long, white, grime streaked hair, blood-splattered pale skin. Straight toward a woman with tresses of cascading green, a sullied white gown, a sword and shield clenched in each bony hand.

She charged him first. Roaring, he loosed his sword and cracked its links like a whip. She grunted and dodged, the flailing blade cutting into her already torn dress. The woman was thin, filthy, alone. She glared and snarled as she fought, powered by something far beyond mortal conviction. Their battle raged as their soldiers stood still, eyes fixed. Aching limbs and bleeding wounds were forgotten as history was carved in the mud before them.

The man flashed his teeth and rushed her, flicking his bone-white sword forward to pierce her heart. He would carve it out. Raise it high. Pry out her bones as a witness to her offensive, powerless existence.

She dove in, twisting her jagged sword to block his, catching the links around it. One solid pull and the man’s sword was wrenched out of his calloused hands. She threw her weapons aside with it and attacked. Her muddy sole pounded him in the chest. He flew backward, his body skidding through the blood-soaked earth. She was on him like a beast, pinning him down while unsheathing a pure white dagger.

Breath seethed through her teeth as she glared down at him. “Tell me, Nemesis,” the woman hissed. Green eyes narrowed in fury, dispelling any light. “Do you recall the Red Canyon?”

She raised her dagger high. Blood red sunlight shimmered off the blade.

YOU’LL DIE FOR THAT!

Then

the dream would end.


	2. Byleth

**Imperial Year 1179**

* * *

Byleth Eisner didn’t always dream. She was a light sleeper if anything, traveling all over Fodlan, rising at a moment’s notice to help with a job. But when she did dream, it always felt real. They came regularly enough that she was used to them, but she rarely expected them. Her life spent trailing behind her father and his mercenary crew seemed violent enough to create these battles in her mind.

But the dream of a throne was the most common. Always empty, shadowed in a pale green glow, expectant of someone to fill it. She asked her father, Jeralt, about it once. He simply frowned. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything like that.”

“I see,” Byleth replied. She wasn’t disappointed, but she didn’t know what she expected either.

“Don’t take my word that it doesn’t exist, though.” He clapped her back warmly, contrasting the low growl of his voice. “While I’ve been all over Fodlan, there are some sights I’ve yet to see myself.”

That answer was enough for her. In truth, she didn’t want to think much of it, and Jeralt didn’t press for details. Simple practicality was a hereditary trait (though physically they looked nothing alike.) Her favorite memories of him were ones spent in comfortable silence. Planning their travel routes, fishing in rivers, watching with interest as he waved off some desperate plea for help before relenting in the end.

Those habits bled into her everyday life. She often kept to herself. Members of their mercenary group would cycle through with the seasons, and those who stayed were used to her even stares, her subdued manner. They knew she was strong, and that was enough. Newcomers would scowl and complain when she would swoop into their rescue. One recruit, a lanky young man around her age, jumped back with a squawk when her blade ripped through the wing of a hawk monster. “What’re you doin’!” he exclaimed as she felled the beast.

Byleth turned, metering her confusion. “You were in danger.”

The other mercenaries snickered at the sight as they cleared the roads for merchants. The young man, a farmer’s son turn opportunist, stuck out his chin. “From you maybe! I thought you was gonna slice right through me!”

A woman nearby let out a bark of laughter. “Farmboy, just be glad she didn’t let you become overgrown chicken feed!” She carved out what meat she could from the hawk, collecting it in a cloth-covered basket. “Though if you hadn’t jumped out of the way, she _would_ have sliced through you. She’s like a demon, that one…”

The young man flushed. “B-but I had it covered!”

“Quit making excuses,” Jeralt scolded, riding in on his gelding. His lance was already cleaned after clearing out the hawk’s nest with the rest of his group. “If you had a better eye for your surroundings, she wouldn’t have had to save you in the first place. Leave your ego at home.”

The young man shot her a disgruntled pout. She stared at him back, knowing she had done the right thing.

All her life, she followed her father’s orders in battle. Only recently did he pull back and have her take command, watching over her with a shrewd, experienced eye. By then the give and take of battle was second nature. Byleth could strike faster and cut deeper than anyone twice her meager size. Sight-reading the enemy was her art, the swing of her blade her song. Face unflinching, calm blue eyes narrowing in on the unfortunate foe before her.

The Ashen Demon.

Jeralt had sniffed derisively when he first heard her new nickname. “The Ashen Demon, huh? Sounds like the others haven’t seen you pout when your fishing line breaks.”

“I don’t mind it,” said Byleth, shrugging.

“Sure you’re okay with it? Names like that tend to stick if you don’t put them down fast enough.”

She gave him a look. “Like yours, Blade Breaker?”

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “I only happened to do it once, a long time ago… Snap one measly bandit’s sword in two as it’s about to cut into your employer and no one lets you forget it. I didn’t think much of it at first. Flattered, to be honest, but now…”

“I like it, even if you don’t.”

Jeralt smiled crookedly. “Well, if you’re the type to not mind being called the Ashen Demon, I guess I’m not surprised.”

Byleth never thought of herself so threatening to be called a “demon.” As time went on the name stuck and she didn’t feel like arguing. If others said it of her, maybe there was truth to it. She never felt fully connected to that primal fear others had in battle: She knew only action, reaction. Even her father would wince in pain from a wound, while sometimes others would remind her of the blood streaked across her face.

She also wondered exactly what that word meant. Demon.

Byleth had heard of angels, of priests, of saints. Such things never caught her interest as their group mostly deal with merchants and out of the way villages. But how was she the opposite? Though she had killed, it was for survival, to protect. Employers thanked them from the bottom of their purses, but she was satisfied just to have work.

Byleth knew her stoicism kept others at bay, but she couldn’t call it loneliness. She was good at what she did.

She needed nothing more than that.


	3. Encounter

**Imperial Year 1180**

**-Day 19 of the Great Tree Moon-**

* * *

The rest of the year went on as usual. The farm boy had given up mercenary life and went on home, along with several others from their crew. Since then, they refilled their ranks, drove back bandits, and protected caravans along the roads.

Now, armed with fat purses, Jeralt’s mercenary crew stopped for several days’ rest in a small village called Remire. Locals were ready to show off their wares, as the melting snow from the Oghma Mountains meant clean rivers and open roads for trading.

The inn they stayed in was tidy but small. Byleth shared a room with her father though he was rarely in it. He announced he’d be heading out to meet with someone about a possible job in the Kingdom. That left Byleth to mind their crew and restock their supplies: vulneraries, swords, axes, lances, bows. Only swords felt good in her hands, though she played with the idea of using gauntlets for a time. Never seemed to stick with her, though.

Night brought back the worst of her dreams: The muddy battlefield. The cries of pain and victory. The gleaming dagger ready to plunge into that man’s chest.

She awoke with a start, eyes flashing open, lungs tight. Light from the moon barely breached the tree line through the window, the night air calm and cold. Instinctively she looked to the neighboring bed, finding it empty.

Jeralt had yet to return.

Byleth let out a slow, quiet breath. It didn’t take long to calm down, as she had done it before. For as long as she had that dream, she always woke right after that moment.

Because for that moment, something knotted in her stomach as if the dagger would plunge into _her_.

“Jeralt! Bandits! Just out of town!”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Byleth threw off her blanket, surprisingly damp with her sweat, and pulled on her boots, her coat, her blade. She would finish getting dressed later. Just as an anxious fist pounded on the door, she pulled it open, revealing a woman from their company. Her short hair was matted, her breath tight. She stared at her dumbly for a long minute. “Oh, just you? Where’s Jeralt?”

“Out still,” Byleth said firmly, closing the door behind her. “Bandits?”

She jerked her head to the stairs. “Spotted outside of town. Chasing some kids by the look of it, but they’re all headed straight for the village.”

Byleth frowned and nodded. She followed the woman down the steps and out into the square, heading straight for the main gates.

An icy chill cracked over Byleth’s skin, followed by scorching fire. She jerked to a stop, gaping ahead at the figures in the gate. Two of them. They were young, almost her age, dressed in black and gold with cloaks of blue and red.

Nameless emotions cemented her legs to the floor, but she forced herself to walk. Straining to see their faces. She saw-

AN AMETHYST GLARE,

ICE BLUE HATRED,

Her every move felt heavy. Instincts screamed to turn back, while something stronger pulled her forward. Confusion flared, her ears filling with-

INHUMAN ROARS OF MEN, CHARGING THROUGH BLOOD STREAKED DIRT. FLAMES LICKED THE EDGES OF THE TREES, CAGING THEIR BATTLE. SOLDIERS BURIED IRON AND STEEL INTO CRIMSON ARMOR, TEARING INTO FLESH.

THE ORDER CAME LIKE A LION’S BELLOW, A HELLISH CALL FOR MASSACRE.

KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM.

“Please forgive our intrusion,” said the young man in blue. His voice was calm, crisp, polite. “We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

“Bandits attacked us while we rested at camp,” said the young woman in red. She stood with poise and focus, her eyes darting behind them toward the danger. “We are outnumbered and in desperate need of support.”

Byleth blinked, realizing she stood directly in front of the two. Their words dragged her back to reality, one where the only flames were torches lighting the village walls.

 _What was that?_ Byleth wondered, still unable to focus on their faces. Yet she couldn’t look away. Urgency pulled on her like gravity, adrenaline swarmed her intuition. She had to help them, these strangers in the night.

And she had no idea why.


	4. Claude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO HOW ABOUT THAT NEW INFO ON CLAUDE <3 A lot of what was revealed was already part of my headcanon for him (tho I guessed his name would be Khalil, just one letter off.) Either way I plan to do something a little different with his character for DTIA. And thank you for your comments so far!

**Imperial Year 1180**

**-Day 20 of the Great Tree Moon-**

* * *

Oh, great. Claude’s tactical retreat had turned into a twisted game of follow the leader.

First, the Faerghus prince chased after him once he managed to slip through the trees, then the Adrestian princess soon after. The midnight moon watched overhead as they fled their camp, the bandits’ and knights’ muffled battle cries fading behind them. Some bandits chased after them with a tenacity usually saved for bloodhounds, not coin-hungry criminals.

The three had abandoned all but weapons and medicine. Claude wasn’t familiar with this stretch of wood, but they traveled east, away from Garreg Mach. Reliable help would be found in the _other_ direction. As usual, he would just have to improvise.

Rounding a hill and ducking behind a large oak, the three House Leaders stopped to catch their breath. Not a word exchanged. All ears craned for a snapping twig or sign of an ambush.

Long moments passed. Dimitri exhaled, clearing his nerves. “I believe we’ve lost them.”

“You’re welcome for that,” Claude replied, rubbing the stitch in his side.

Disdain dripped from Edelgard’s words, but she sounded just as exhausted. “Those bandits will find us if we rest now. We’ll need better shelter than these trees, though perhaps you already thought of that, Claude?”

Claude replied with only a smile. The cloth tents they had when the bandits first descended on them were terrible shelter, so yes, something sturdier would be better. Among the knights companying them, their main protector, a freshly appointed professor, stayed behind to keep the bandits off their tail. No sign of him now meant he may have fallen in their defense. Shame. Claude could have used someone like him.

“There is a village nearby if I recall,” said Dimitri. “The name escapes me, but we should be able to reach it quickly.”

Edelgard nodded. “I believe you’re right. There’s no point in turning back when we were asked to run for our lives…”

Claude plucked idly at his bowstring, ready to move. “In that case, the princess would know where to go, right? We _are_ in Imperial territory, after all.”

Edelgard’s frown deepened, but then she sighed. “If that would convince you to follow me instead of running off, then yes, I would know. Now don’t fall behind.”

They rushed on, woods masking their path. Claude would have suggested splitting up if so only he could try his luck climbing a tree to escape notice. But heights weren’t the problem. _Trees_ were. Either no footholds or branches unreasonably out of reach. Self-preservation meant staying together, if only so another would fall while he escaped.

Steady torchlight called to them through the woods. A tiny settlement with scattered homes and towering stone walls. Anyone sensible was asleep, or not about to be cornered by roving bandits. Unless they split up _here_ and hid in the homes, this place was no fortress for them.

“Remire Village,” Edelgard read from a sign on the gate.

Several shadows roamed the otherwise empty plaza. Mercenaries by the look of it. Tending horses and weapons, preparing for their next influx of coin. The three students ran to a stop in front of them, the mercenaries watching them with surprise. Soon Edelgard demanded their help, causing one to run off and find their boss.

Leaves rustled from behind. Claude glanced back, hands already on his bow. Nothing but a loud, sustained gust of wind. Bad news if they relied on only sound to watch their back. He clicked his tongue and started back to the trees.

“Claude, wait,” Dimitri grabbed his arm, grip alarmingly tight. “Where are you going?”

“I’m off to keep watch. Don’t tell me you _want_ to get attacked from behind while begging for help.”

Dimitri frowned stubbornly, concern lighting his blue eyes. He released his grip. “A good idea, but please stay close. Alert us should they catch up.”

“Of course,” Claude said with a shrug. “You play nice with the mercenaries, while I save the day.” He saluted and dashed off. He hid himself a few paces back, turning his back on neither hill nor village. A side view covered more, so he kept his eyes on the empty woods around them, ears on the village gates.

“Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire…”

Claude shook his head, amused. A life or death situation and he still inflated his syllable count. Ready to bow and scrape to show the earnest humility of Faerghus royalty, though he kept enough authority to be taken seriously. Dimitri was an oddity for sure.

Claude switched his eyes to the village, his ears to the woods. All the mercenaries gathered around a woman, a young one at that, who looked like she just rolled out of bed. Blue hair unkempt, armor missing, a sword clutched in her hand. Stranger still was the look on her face. Even far away in dim light, he could see her surprise. Wide, blinking eyes flitted from Dimitri to Edelgard, mouth pressed in a tight line.

 _She looks so haunted_ … Claude frowned, trying to piece it together. _The other mercenaries are looking to her, but is she really their leader?_

His ears pricked and Claude whipped around. Figures covered in furs and bristling with blades crested the hill. Numbers-wise, they were evenly matched, but there were more than Claude remembered. Hidden reinforcements? Seems that these bandits weren’t the lucky opportunists he had once thought.

When he trotted to the main gates, the woman’s eyes snapped to his. She looked him up and down, panic both obvious yet foreign on her face. Claude smiled confusedly back. He had little faith this one would be any help, but she could always surprise him.

“So, think they’ll help?” He asked Edelgard, ignoring the woman’s stares as he jutted his thumb behind them. “We’ve run out of villages to request help from if they don’t.”

She turned to watch the hill, eyes narrowing on the bandits. “They’re faster than I thought.”

Dimitri gritted his teeth and turned to the mercenaries. “We have no way of payment yet, but please, they are almost-“

“We’ll help,” the woman said. She must have shaken off whatever stupor she was under, for she turned to one of her mercenaries to put on armor. Her mercenaries readied themselves too, grabbing their blades. Dimitri already sputtered out a sincere thank you while Edelgard shook her head.

“Hah! Finally cornered you brats!”

Steel flashed as everyone spun toward the gates, raising their weapons. The bandit’s leader was easy to pick out. He was huge, muscled, with a square-shaped face with a thick scraggly beard. His men rallied behind him, spacing themselves in a practiced formation. They would have to be driven back from the gates or else the good people of Remire would wake up to plundering as well as a massacre.

Time to see what this mercenary crew could do.


	5. Glimpse

The mercenaries charged in, driving the bandits away from the gates and into the surrounding woods. Byleth didn’t have to call out orders: this maneuver was engrained in them by her father. Shouts and clashing metal echoed through the trees. Lights flickered on in the houses behind them.

It was clear their new clients wouldn’t sit back and watch. Byleth had picked up their names from their private conversations: Edelgard, Dimitri, Claude. Young, but not quite children. When the moment came they charged into the woods, their weapons raised. Like true soldiers.

Familiarity washed over her like a chilling breeze. Then she joined the fight. The battle should have been over in an instant, but their enemy was tenacious. Byleth struck down as many as she could, ignoring her confusion and focusing only on the arc of her blade.

A flash of red. The slick sound of metal digging into flesh, a cry of pain. The young woman, white hair long and flowing, flicked off the blood still wet on her axe and charged into the next one. Byleth stopped to stare. She couldn’t help it. Edelgard attacked with smooth and efficient grace, unexpected from her brutal weapon.

Edelgard felled the other just as swiftly. She turned-

HAND RAISED AS SOLDIERS POURED INTO THE FEILD. BLOOD RED ARMOR AND GOWN, CROWN OF SPIRAL HORNS, WHITE HAIR TWISTING LIKE TENDRILS IN THE AIR. A MASSIVE, BONY AXE PULSED IN HER HANDS, AN EERY GLOW OF POWER WAITING TO BE UNLEASHED.

Byleth’s body seized. Her grip tightened on her blade, readying it to strike.

MOTIONLESS, SHE STARED COOLY AT HER. WHY DID SHE HESITATE. WHY DIDN’T SHE CHARGE IN TO KILL. HER EYES, ONCE HARDENED WITH FOCUS AND AMBITION, SOFTENED AS SHE BEHELD HER ENEMY. HER ROSE RED LIPS PARTED, TO LAMENT-

“You say you’re a mercenary…”

Byleth started, shocked back to reality. Edelgard’s gaze scalded her, eyes evaluating. Their color was soft lavender, like fading petals on a late spring tree. Her stance was firmly rooted, and she didn’t allow herself to bend. “Yet you have a strange aura… Regardless, don’t lose focus. The fight is far from over.”

Byleth nodded before she realized it, and Edelgard chase after the bandits. _She’s always like this._ The thought bubbled to her mind. _Demanding nothing less than the best._

But how would she know that?

A grunt of pain from the left. Two bandits converged on the one bearing blue, Dimitri. His spear blurred in the air as he drove his attackers back, but he was outnumbered. Byleth dashed in and raked her blade through one bandit’s chest, knocking him down. With a cry the other lunged at her, locking his blade against hers. Byleth shoved back, but her foot caught on a jutting tree root. The victorious bandit sneered at where she fell and raised his sword high.

A spear burst through the bandit’s chest. He gasped, spittle flying, then yelped as his body was flicked off to the side, limp and loose like a discarded doll. Breath huffing, Dimitri lowered his spear and pushed back his sweat-slicked blond hair. He stepped closer-

TOWERING IN BRISTLING FURS. STARK, SOAKED, CRUEL. BLOOD SMEARED THE GROUND AROUND HIM, THE FALLING RAIN BANISHING ALL SENTIMENT.

LIGHTING FLASHED ABOVE. THE LION MAN CHARGED AND BLADE HIT BLADE, THUNDER CRACKING THROUGH THEIR BONES. SAPPHIRE EYES GLARED DEFIANCE. A LAST STAND. A FINAL GOODBYE. BARING HIS TEETH, HE BELLOWED-

“Are you injured?”

A firm hand gripped hers. Byleth looked up in shock, letting Dimitri pull her to her feet. He clasped it in gratitude. “Good to know someone is watching my back. I promise to do the same as long as we fight together.”

Warmth flooded Byleth’s chest, a feeling she could only call affection. Her body still tensed as if his grip would turn into claws, but his words melted the fear that had gripped her.

Dimitri held her gaze with concern. “Perhaps it was unfair of us to call you so late at night. You look already spent. If you need to fall back-”

Byleth shook her head, releasing his hand. “I’m good to fight. Are you?”

He smiled, nodding firmly, before setting his jaw and rejoined the fight.

Their enemy was finally falling back, but the sounds of fighting continued past the trees. Byleth joined the tree line, following the noise. She watched for the red, for the blue. Clashing fear and affection blurred her mind, her breath quivering like never before. These were _strangers_ to her, and yet…

She soon found her next target, a bandit standing with his back turned to the trees. Gripping her sword, Byleth leapt out and cut deep into his shoulder, nearly severing the arm. When the man shrieked and spun, she sliced him across the stomach, shoving him back.

A twig snapped. Byleth ducked low, steel swinging over her head, and rolled into the open grass. Her attacker pursued, shouting out with his vicious blade when-

An arrow sprouted from the bandit’s eye, dropping him to the ground.

Byleth spun, shocked. That archer, dressed in black and gold with a cloak of yellow, gave her a wink, rising from his hiding place in the trees. “That was close,” he told her, voice mellow and bright. “Guess that means you owe me one.”

Byleth stared, rising to her feet. Claude’s face, she could see it clearly. Tawny skin, curling black hair, a braid dangling from his right temple, green eyes drooped but wary. And a smile. Smiling despite fighting for his life.

“Ooh, heads up!” With one fluid motion, Claude spun around and fired his bow, his arrow plunging into another bandit’s throat. “Better leave the chatting for after, I guess.”

She waited for it, watching. The rush of adrenaline. The panic.

The moment never came.

“Hey, Demon!” A mercenary shouted through the trees. “We need back up!”

Cursing, Byleth pulled back (how did she become so scattered?) and raced past the trees. Corpses of bandits lead the trail, along with sounds of a smaller skirmish ahead. Footsteps followed, deft enough she almost didn’t hear. “Behind you,” Claude warned. She didn’t answer, pressing on.

The scattered bandits were pushed back to a clearing behind the village watchtower, their numbers shrunk. The bandits that could flee did, while her mercenaries pulled back to treat their wounded. The bandit’s leader, Kostas from the sound of it, cornered Edelgard. Dimitri had locked himself in a stalemate, far from where he could help. Though her enemy’s size, Edelgard stood her ground, dodging every blow. When she finally struck back, Kostas escaped by tumbling to the ground. Her axe smashed into a nearby tree, the handle shattering in her gloved hand.

Byleth’s breath shuddered, fear welling in her chest. Claude disappeared into the trees as Byleth dashed into the clearing, running to assist before

Slowing to a stop.

Around her, light and shadow blurred. Coolness eked through her skin.

**“Now you’ve done it, girl!” Kostas snarled. He leapt back to his feet as his men cheered, hefting his axe and roaring as he charged. Unarmed, Edelgard whipped out a steel dagger, her last defense.**

**Then she turned. Eyes wide in surprise as Byleth dashed in, sword raised.**

**A swift hook, steel crashing against steel. The axe spun out into the dark as Kostas squawked, stumbling to the ground. Towering with stony resolve, Byleth loomed over the lump of a man…**

“Now you’ve done it, girl!” Kostas snarled.

Byleth jolted, air flooded her lungs again.

He leapt back to his feet as his men cheered, hefting his axe and roaring as he charged. Unarmed, Edelgard whipped out a steel dagger, her last defense.

History…. repeating?

Kostas sliced through the air. Arrows shot uselessly over their heads. Bandits swarmed around them, caging their leader in with his kill. Edelgard swung her dagger at any opening she could find, endurance fading.

No. This was wrong. Byleth dashed in, her legs moving like lead, instincts screaming to stop. Edelgard turned, eyes wide in surprise. Hand outstretched, Byleth threw herself in front, raising her sword to-

Agony burst through her body. Byleth gasped and dropped her sword, hearing bones crack. The steel axe bit into her collarbone, blood spilling down her front. The blade is so close to her eye she had to twist out of the way, slicing her cheek open. Kostas, surprised but relentless, shoved the axe deeper. She grunted in pain as she clamped her hand over his and pulled against the axe, blinking away the clouds in her sight.

A thin glow shimmered about her hands. The axe still bearing down on her, light swelled in her chest.

Kostas sneered, his hot breath washing over her face. He pushed harder, brows tight in confusion. “ _Why-_ _won’t- you-”_

Power surged, clearing her muddled mind. Byleth grabbed the axe and threw her weight back, sending Kostas flying over her shoulder. Her shout rattled her throat as she spun and launched it back at him. She didn’t need to watch it sink into the ground, to watch it sever the bandit’s hand, to watch him cry out in agony. She could _feel_ it. Feel that rare but familiar light trickle over her skin, stitching her wounds closed.

Kostas cradled his severed limb, cursing and shouting. Some of his men ran. Other voices cheered. Weak again, Byleth fell to her knees. Hands grabbed her shoulders, and amethyst eyes stared at her, vexed and vivid. “You-” Edelgard whispered. “Did you-”

Hooves pounded through the dirt, followed by a horse’s shriek as it barreled down the clearing. Kostas rolled out of the way just as Jeralt and his mount would have ground him into the dirt.

“There!” A new voice boomed. Clanking armor followed after. “Get those bandits! Protect our students!”

Haze flooded Byleth’s mind. Figures in white swarmed around her, led in by Dimitri and Claude. Edelgard held her steady as hands bathed in light hovered over her. Byleth raised a hand to check the wound herself, but it was pushed away. “Don’t touch,” the healer said.

Jeralt dismounted and flew to Byleth’s side. “Kid, what the hell happened?”

“She took the blow for me,” Edelgard said coolly, but her grip tightened on Byleth’s shoulders. “I believe she will survive…”

Other medics checked Dimitri and Claude for injuries, as well as the mercenaries. Soldiers in glistening white armor gathered up the straggling bandits, while Kostas’s hand lay forgotten in the grass. Byleth closed her eyes and let the healing magic wash over her. It was stronger than her own power, though she could never predict when _that_ would take over. Hard to question such a miracle when it had just saved her life.

“So…” Claude, cleared by the medics, came to kneel by Byleth’s side. He eyed her wound with a raised brow. “‘Demon’, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> byleth pointing to claude: who is this sassy lost child
> 
> I spent a little too much time buried in a thesaurus working on this chapter, but it was worth it. For DTIA, Byleth receives visions instead of speaking with Sothis, and more twists on canon will slowly trickle in. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Schemer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some estimates, added a guess for how many chapters i'll have for this project. Though I keep copious notes, I keep adding new scenes at the last minute, especially this chapter. Needed more house leader interaction before the plot tears them apart. Ah, the glory of youth!

**Imperial Year 1180**

**-Day 20 of the Great Tree Moon-**

**-Morning-**

“It’s a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

Dimitri and Edelgard turned to Claude with surprise. He eyed them from his crouch while tending his bow, checking the string for fraying edges. It was a new morning on that same fateful night after resting in Remire. Now they gathered by the gates under a pale blue morning sky. Clouds dotted the horizon.

“Care to explain what you mean?” Dimitri asked. “I doubt Edelgard or I have the ability to read your mind.”

Claude laughed. “And that’s a good thing! Neither of you would respect me if you saw all the cobwebs in there.” He set his things aside and stood. “Those bandits. They down hard on us, then chased us through the woods when we left plenty of valuables behind. They _could_ have ransacked the camp while we slept and then ducked off.”

Dimitri frowned. “Perhaps they could tell the Knights of Seiros were with us, so the decided they would need to use more force?”

“Then why take the risk at all?” Edelgard asked. “Unless they were truly desperate with no other camps in sight.”

“Precisely,” said Claude. “Adding that with them forcefully escorting us to this village means they wanted more than a quick hit: they were after us. I don’t mean to breathe it into existence, but it does explain last night.”

Weighing her thoughts, Edelgard nodded. “If his suspicion is correct, anyone of us could have been the target, and the rest were attacked to mask the trail.”

“That still leaves me with questions…” Dimitri muttered. “How could they know where we would set up camp? None of us knew we would undergo field training until the morning of…”

As their Highnesses set themselves to bicker, Claude let his mind wander, picking his new acquaintances apart. They met only briefly with her venerated holiness Lady Rhea before preparing for this spectacular getaway. First impressions always delivered a wealth of knowledge. Now that he was past those, he could dig deeper.

Dimitri was taller than Claude by a few inches, but he didn’t hold it against him. Two words came to mind: Restraint and intent. Compelled by an inherited code of ethics, Dimitri looked at everything with fitful sincerity through those captivating baby blues. But sometimes his focus slipped, as if only going through the motions. Even a simple handshake could turn into a death grip if the equilibrium shifted.

Edelgard was similar, but a different formula. Posture gave her more presence than her height allowed, paired with lilac eyes and stark white hair. She scrutinized every inch of you with admirable detachment. Research said she was an only child, but a one-thousand-year-old dynasty balanced on her back. She seemed eager to carve her spot in history.

His thoughts turned back to last night. Neither of his fellow House Leaders could answer the questions that still plagued him. Maybe he could pick the brain of one of the knights as they traveled…

“…I’m not doubting the evidence you see fit to cling to,” Dimitri’s deep voice floated back to his ears. “but fretting like this will only cause us distress. To say we were targeted is-”

“The truth,” Claude interrupted. They locked their gaze on him again, so he shrugged. “At least that’s the closest I can divine from it. I mostly wanted to see how you’d react, but maybe I dug too deep.”

Edelgard sighed, glancing away. “There’s no way to prove it beyond conjecture, but it’s foolish to believe someone wouldn’t want one of us out of the picture.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe it,” Dimitri admitted, his frown darkening. “It’s just the implications are… less than pleasant.”

“But hey, let’s look at the bright side!” Claude clapped a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder while catching Edelgard’s gaze. “Maybe this group assassination attempt can be the start of a long-standing friendship between our good nations.”

Edelgard smiled. “Then let us hope this first attempt will also be the last. We should remain vigilant either way.”

Armor clanked up to them from the inn. “Pardon me, you three!” Came Alois’s boisterous boom. “I hope you’re well-rested. It’s about time for us to return to the monastery.”

Behind him, several mercenaries filed out from the inn, including their leader and his daughter. Claude raised a brow. Even with bandages peeking under her shirt, she looked remarkably healthy for taking an axe in the chest.

Edelgard watched as well. “Is that woman… that mercenary alright?”

“Yes, luckily,” Alois replied. He turned and greeted them with a smile. The one called Jeralt frowned deeper and looked away. His daughter barely glanced in their direction, eyes fixed ahead. “Bad as her wound was, us knights arrived just in time to help her.”

_If only thanks to her crest,_ Claude thought. Obviously she had one: who else could survive such a blow? It seemed to mirror the power of his own, though with fewer pesky prerequisites.

“In fact, with my men to the rescue, you could say that last _knight_ was her lucky night!” Silence followed, expressing more than stifled groans ever could. “N-now why don’t you lot gather your things? Don’t leave anything behind!”

Nodding, Dimitri and Edelgard set off while Claude ducked to scoop up his belongings. He lingered on the ground, watching the mercenaries. They were packing as well, even talking with the knights. Were they coming too?

“Claude? Is something the matter?” asked Alois

“…Something _is_ on my mind, actually,” he said, standing. “I’m curious: What happened to Professor Whatshisnose?”

“Ah, yes…” Alois frowned glumly. “He helped against the bandits and once we realized you three had gone, we thought he must have gone after you as well. But we have yet to find a trace of him!”

Claude feigned surprise. Not that he was gone, but there wasn’t even a corpse left behind. _That’s way too suspicious..._

“But don’t let it trouble you. I have some knights searching for him. Perhaps he got lost? Started back to the monastery on his own? In either case, I’m sure we’ll find him soon! Eventually…”

Cogs spinning in his mind, Claude clicked his tongue with regret. “That’s bad luck. The year is about to begin, and we’re short a whole professor. Now it’s just Hanneman and Manuela, if I got their names right.”

The man winced. “That’s… unfortunately true. I’ll have to prepare a report for Lady Rhea about last night. If he doesn’t return, we will have little time to find a replacement.”

“In that case, why not deliver good news as well?” Claude shrugged, watching for Alois’s reaction. “You know, that mercenary who saved us was something else. Half those bandits fell to her blade! Dove in front of Edelgard to protect her _and_ lives to talk about it. Just think of much we could learn from someone with that real combat experience.”

Alois said nothing, staring thoughtfully. He was taking the bait.

“Anyway, don’t mind my fancies. We just ran into her, so-’

“Claude… That is a splendid idea!” Alois smiled so brightly Claude almost went blind. “Why not the daughter of Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker! He was once a Captain of the knights, you see! Learned everything I know from the man. If Byleth is as talented as you say, then we’ve found our silver lining.”

_Byleth, huh?_ Claude never got her name before, and it was a strange one. Then again Fodlan was full of those. Edelgard, Ignatz, Lysithea, Jeritza. At least Claude’s was simple.

“I’ve already asked for them to join us at the monastery, but this could be just what Garreg Mach needs! Perhaps the Goddess herself is behind this.”

_Doubtful_ , Claude thought, smiling.

Either way, it worked. Even if this Byleth rejected the job, he’d be able to observe her on the way back. Quite the curiosity. No emotion, just an open, unsettling gaze. Yet there were moments where she looked like she was frozen in fear, like she may fall to pieces just by looking at them.

Whatever professor his Golden Deer ended up with, he would learn all he could. He spent the past year preparing for this esteemed academy and inheriting the Riegan dukedom, should his grandfather’s health give out. If along the way he could gain more insight into this “Demon” that saved their lives, all the better.


	7. Rhea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy prepping for Hilclaude Week on twitter, but I want to push this out now because DTIA owns my brain cells 👊😞

**-Day 23 of the Great Tree Moon-**

**-Afternoon-**

Byleth traced a finger down the hand mirror’s reflection of the scar on her face. It started under her left cheekbone, skipped over her neck, then continued from her collarbone to snake over her chest. Some healings went better than others, and this one left a mark. Pink puckering skin itched under the bandages, but she preferred it over a severed vessel in her neck.

They traveled up a wide, sloping mountain path that looked more difficult to climb than it was. Their destination, Garreg Mach Monastery, glowed in the distance with armaments of a fortress, rich banners of ivory and scarlet draping from every parapet. Fodlan in a nutshell, Claude had called it, after Dimitri offered to show her around. Edelgard, however, looked at the place with solemn reverence, or rather a stern eye.

It still hurt to look at her, and Dimitri as well. A darker world flashed in Byleth’s vision when she tried, each peek clawing at her insides to either run to them or from them. But if she ever stared at Claude, it was because she wondered why he was exempt. Or he was making some loud declaration she couldn’t understand. The smile he wore wasn’t as disturbing as her visions, but there was something in that smile. Or rather, something was _missing._

Their group separated once they reached the marketplace, the students ushered away by their teachers while Jeralt ordered his mercenaries to rest in town. Byleth eyed her father’s scowl as they passed students and soldiers through the stone gates, past chandeliers, and up the cloistered staircase. Travelers must have been common as few stared at them, but those who did weren’t spared a second glance.

Jeralt’s scowl etched its deepest lines once they were alone, waiting in an audience room for one called the archbishop. Byleth’s nerves hummed as she inspected stained glass above their heads, which showed a lily crowned woman in a white gown descending from above. The room was beautiful as azure hued sunlight filtered through the glass, but she felt uneasy. Her eyes flicked to every dark and quiet corner as if something would jump out.

“Can’t believe I ended up dragged back to this place.” Jeralt looked high into the vaulted ceiling.

“…You’ve been here before?”

He nodded. “I lived here. Many, many years ago.” He turned to her, an apology in his eyes. “You remember what I told you about the Church of Seiros, right?”

Her nerves hummed louder. “Some things.”

“Well, it may be time to start brushing up. Years ago, I worked as a knight under the archbishop. I’ve got a bad feeling we’re staying longer than a ‘Thank you’ from her.”

A tall but narrow double door opened to their left. Heels clicked against the floor, and they were met with a scowl and a smile: the former from a stern man in a circlet and dark blue uniform, the latter from a stunningly beautiful woman in a golden headdress. She smiled graciously, painted lips curling, slender hands clasped at her waist. “Greetings to you and thank you for making time for us to meet. Welcome to Garreg Mach.” Her pale green eyes flicked to Jeralt. “And I cannot begin to express my relief in seeing you again after so many years.”

He nodded stiffly. “Lady Rhea.”

“Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Rhea’s smile grew. “I would even go as far as to say that the Goddess has had her hand in our reunion.” She then introduced her advisor, Seteth, but after that Byleth couldn’t focus on the conversation. Her skin itched, her body tensed. The threshold of her emotions wavered just under the boiling point. She picked apart each one as it bubbled up: concern, worry, tension, resentment, decision-

“As for you, I’ve heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. What is your name?”

PALE GREEN EYES MATCHED HER STARE, BEARING DOWN WITH DISGUST AND CONTEMPT. IN A FLASH THE EYES NARROWED, PUPILS SLIT, SILVER SCALES SHINING-

Byleth balled her hands into fists, her gaze hot. Her hand twitched for her sword but found nothing in her grasp.

Beside the archbishop, Seteth’s brow twitched. “Excuse me,” he began, his voice curling with disappointment, “but the archbishop was indeed speaking to you. You must at least show the basic courtesy to offer your name.”

“It is alright, Seteth. I take no offense.” Rhea lightly placed a hand on Seteth’s shoulder, which helped him regain his composure. “In truth, I already know your name.” Her soft voice shimmered with unwanted kindness, with unearned familiarity. “Thank you for all you have done for our students, Byleth Eisner.”

Fingernails dig deeper into Byleth’s palm. Rhea turned back to Jeralt. “I believe you already know what I wish to ask, do you not…?”

* * *

**-Day 24 of the Great Tree Moon-**

**-Morning-**

“Stay on your guard. Watch out for Lady Rhea.”

Jeralt left Byleth with those words as he followed a grinning Alois to his old captain’s office. His worst fears were confirmed: They would stay in Garreg Mach indefinitely, he as a knight, she as a professor. He already sent a message to their mercenaries, disbanding their group. Work supposedly would be easy to find in a place like this, that still left questions. Why did he rejoin the Knights of Seiros so readily? He was suspicious of Lady Rhea, yet scared of turning her down? Byleth couldn’t help but relate, but besides his warning, she felt alone in her tangle of emotions.

Two professors came to her and gave a rundown of her duties, but it wasn’t enough. Who was going to teach her how to teach? _Actually_ teach? Learning under her father was a lifetime of one on one, but she would have roughly a year to cover that much for an entire class.

The Black Eagles, the Blue Lions, or the Golden Deer.

She had the afternoon to decide. To walk through the monastery, meet with the House Leaders once again. Slice through the flashes and the waves and the confusion to figure out how to manage herself. Byleth let go of a shuddering breath, willing herself calm once she stepped down to the reception hall.

Her choice felt obvious yet completely ungraspable. While her instincts screamed at her to run, she felt. Compelled. To see a rare smile cross Edelgard’s face, to hear the uncommon timbre of Dimitri’s laugh. Both so serious, yet eager to tackle any task in front of them. Byleth sensed something beyond the burning mire of those visions. If she could reach out seek out the reason why, she may finally find her peace again. She didn’t want to pass over Claude, but it just wasn’t the same. If she did choose his house, she would at least be able to look him in the eye...

But why was it so? Any of it?

Something greater than history loomed in the air, in the stone, in stained glass. Others walked oblivious as it pulsed around them, so thick that it would drown her.

Across the way, a shock of long white hair waited for her. Byleth set her jaw, biting back the inescapable knot of fear and compassion, and took her first step.


	8. Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends I’m back 👋 Sadly updates will come slower, now that I’m back at work and juggling Real World Things. 
> 
> In amazing news, I commissioned my bud Steven for cover art for DTIA! Check out his twitter, he does amazing work 💖 https://twitter.com/spectralsaint/status/1283819661071659013?s=20 

It looked like she was trying. It really, really did. 

Claude let the fork tongs hang from his mouth as he watched the mercenary Byleth across the dining hall. Her knitted brows were the only mark of a frown, her lips a thin line. She barely spoke as she listened to Dimitri, blinking as if she stared into the sun. 

It was halfway through the usual lunch rush, students and staff packing away as much food as they could before the next bell, but he always preferred to take his time. He’d eaten there enough to know each student was served from the same pot, meaning there was less chance he would be singled out as a victim of a tampered meal (And as long as he kept his tray beside him, all the better). 

He didn’t plan for his suggestion on Byleth taking the teacher spot to actually work. Mostly he hoped that he could size the stranger up, just a for a moment, but perhaps he was more persuasive than he realized. Lady Rhea, from rumors, seemed more than eager to bring her on board. Now what was the story behind that...? 

Now each house leader could try and convince the stoic mercenary to choose their class. Naturally, Claude lived for the challenge. 

He had his lines all picked out. Charm and mystery would help him stand out from the serious Edelgard and the exemplary Dimitri. Assuming Edelgard found Byleth first, and seeing her with Dimitri now, Claude would have to be next. He pulled the fork from his mouth and tried to read their lips from across the room. Too much noise and movement made it impossible, but context and body language told most of the story. 

Dimitri began to stumble through his words, clearing his throat. Ah, was the prince trying to explain Sylvain? Beyond that, every other word was praise for him and his classmates. Made sense. Most of the Blue Lions had known each other for years, and the others in the class were about as pure as the snow blanketing Faerghus’s capital. Paint a pretty picture, hope she takes the bait, pray that the nearest deity could throw some pity your way, just this once. 

But even so, Dimitri looked wary of Byleth. Unsure. Around her, the starch in his collar seemed to soak into his spine. What a pair they made, stumbling through the simplest of conversations, trying to get to know each other while sizing the other up. 

_She_ _really does look_ _haunted,_ Claude decided. _But really,_ _both of them_ _do._

A silver fork emerged from the edge of his vision. Pale and slender fingers led it carefully, aiming for an almost forgotten piece of fried ham. Without dropping his gaze, Claude propped his chin on one hand and chopped at the intruder with the other. 

The enemy fork clattered onto his plate. “Ow!” Hilda cradled her wounded hand to her chest, glaring at him. “Excuse me!” 

“You’re excused,” said Claude plainly. “Excuse yourself right back in line for seconds instead of stealing from-” It was then he saw her plate. “Gods, you’re not even done?” 

Hilda took her fork back and ruffled her shoulders. “I was getting kind of bored with my food, and _you_ didn’t look like were eating, so...” 

“So, then my plate becomes easy pickings? That I should be left to starve?” Claude smirked, wry and wary. “You seem defensive, considering I caught you red-handed.” 

“More like _you’re_ too paranoid. I was only teasing you!” Hilda smiled sweetly. “Anyway, that’s the mercenary who saved you and the other house leaders, right?” She nibbled at her food as she looked Byleth over. “She’s very pretty...” 

Claude tutted. “Pretty is only half of it, Hilda. Oh, you should have seen it: Cuts down about every bandit in her way, takes an axe to the chest for the princess, then pulls it out to cut off the guy’s whole hand.” 

“Ugh, gross!” Hilda grimaced. “Glad I didn’t see it! That kind of strength is way too scary...” 

Claude nearly laughed. Well, that was rich. True to her delicate flower type, this girl turned up her nose to anything that wasn’t lightly perfumed. Loyalty too whimsical to stick a pin in, but it usually only aligned with herself. But Claude had seen her at training. Her wooden axe effortlessly cracked through the dummies, cloth ripping as splinters spat through the air. 

It wasn’t hard to picture flecks of crimson blood under petal-pink eyes as her blade bit into flesh. She _was_ a Goneril, after all. 

“Either way,” Hilda continued. “I can’t blame you for staring. But if it’s not because you’re always paranoid, then maybe you’re just jealous.” 

Claude frowned. “Why would I be jealous of him? That mercenary saved his princeliness just like she saved me. She’ll come this way soon enough, but it’s simply in his nature to drown her in gratitude.” 

“Funny you say that. I didn’t mean you wanted to talk to _her_ _.”_

Slowly, Claude turned to Hilda. She eyed him back, smiling. “The way she has his _full_ attention, staring up into those _piercing_ baby blues... You wish _you_ were talking to Dimitri instead, don’t you?” 

Claude stared her down, brows raised. 

Sweetly, Hilda batted her lashes. 

The clamor of the dining hall echoed around them as they stared at each other, even smiles plastered on their faces. Near perfect mirrors if you ignored every other difference between them. 

“Your silence tells me I’m right,” she announced. 

“My silence is to give you a chance to realize how ridiculous you sound.” Claude’s smile never dropped. “Your reach is so high, I’m surprised no one’s asking you to pick the fruit trees in the greenhouse.” At that, he twirled his fork between his fingers and stabbed it into a fried chunk of potato. “Not that you’d say yes.” 

“Deny it all you want.” Hilda happily dabbed a napkin at her lips. “I have a knack for reading people. You don’t have to look deep to see Dimitri’s caught your eye.” 

“Is that so? The first impression is always the correct one?” He chuckled. “Nah, I don’t buy it.” He scooted closer to her on the bench, thigh against thigh. To her credit, she barely flinched. “It’s true some people are quick to tell on themselves. Either they don’t think they have anything to hide, or they’re plain terrible at it. But what’s not to say there’s more going on under the surface?” 

Claude brandished his fork and motioned to Byleth. He placed his other hand between them on the table. “Take that mercenary for example. Look at her face. What do you notice?” 

“Well... I’d have to say she doesn’t look totally there. Daydreaming? I mean, she’s trying to listen to him, but her mind is in a completely different place.” Hilda leaned toward him, eyes never leaving Byleth. “Was she like that when you met?” 

“Pretty much. A mystery that one, but also a bit skittish.” Claude shrugged, letting his hand wander closer to her plate. An ignored bunch of red grapes waited there, prime to be plucked. “I’m thinking there’s more going on in that blank stare than you or I could tell. Maybe even more than she realizes?” 

Claude let the potato bob in the air, keeping Hilda’s eye across the room. “But then it’s hard to tell if someone is dangerous based on a single look. Why, you’re about the sweetest thing in this monastery, yet you could crush a training dummy in one swing. I’ve about given up any expectations I had for you.” 

That last line made Hilda squirm a bit, lips pursed. Not enough of a compliment, maybe? “Then again, we’re all just here to learn, aren’t we? There’s no point in picking apart a new friend like that. In the end, you can’t know someone’s story until you have an honest conversation with them.” 

Claude silently plucked a grape from the severed stem. “Also, some friendly advice: Sometimes a person can be so worried sneaking past someone else’s defenses...” He popped it into his mouth. “Dat they fohget to watch their owhn.” 

Hilda’s eyes flew to Claude, then to her plate, then back to Claude. He managed to stuff three more grapes in his mouth and dash out of his seat before she smacked his shoulder. While it didn’t hurt (and she wasn’t gentle), Claude made sure to yelp and spit out the grapes, groaning loudly. 

Students stopped and stared from all over the hall. “Claude, calm down!” Hilda’s eyes flittered with embarrassment around the room. “I barely tapped you.” 

“Barely?” Claude coughed, clutching his shoulder in fake agony. Some students stood for a better look, but no one approached him. 

Hilda huffed hotly, holding up her chin. “Yes, barely. No way my noodley arms could hurt you! Stop overreacting.” 

“Me? Overreacting?!” 

Then, like an arrow meeting his target, blue eyes caught his green. Dimitri stared at him from across the room, lips slightly parted, expression confused and worried. He looked as if he might walk over, suss out what was wrong, but the distance and the number of people around stopped him. 

Claude immediately dropped the act with a shrug. “You know what, Hilda, I was. Great eye as always, Miss Goneril!” 

He heard the spectators laugh or groan at him, but he wasn’t watching them. Once the joke became obvious, Dimitri’s shoulders shook in a chuckle. He looked away and muttered to Byleth, nodding back to Claude, amusement coloring the corners of his mouth. 

_Huh..._ Claude felt himself stand completely still. _That was_ _kind of cute_ _._

_Wait, stop._ _Don’t_ _do it, Claude._

_Don’t_ _let Hilda win._

Byleth watched him as well. Her blue eyes were less... concerned. Or even interested. Having others stare was something Claude was dangerously used to, but he never enjoyed it. Other gazes could hold disdain or amusement, but her eyes held. Nothing for him. And that was the strangest thing. How she could look at, say, Dimitri or Edelgard, and then turn to him and see-? 

The mercenary gave a sudden goodbye to Dimitri, then walked out of the dining hall. No ceremony. No second thought. She exited towards the fishing pond, but despite her vacant gaze, she walked with purpose. 

If this was the time for the future professor to make her choice- 

And she had already finished speaking to the Eagles and the Lions- 

Then that meant- 

“Hilda, clear my plate, will you?” Claude didn’t have to look to know she wouldn’t want to, but he already lost his appetite. Swinging himself toward the classrooms, he left the dining hall as quickly as Byleth did. Could she know her way around already? No way it was true if she was walking past the dorms instead of sneaking around the gazebo. He kept his pace even, steady, charting the quickest course to cut her off before she would meet with the archbishop. 

_A shame she_ _couldn’t_ _give us a chance._ Claude mused bitterly. _But if_ _she’s_ _already decided, I can at least make sure she knows what_ _she’s_ _missing._


	9. Secrets

**-Day 24 of the Great Tree Moon-**

**-Afternoon-**

Byleth would most likely pick the Black Eagles. In the end, the choice was about which house leader she would work with over the year, and Edelgard observed they had similar personalities. But Byleth wondered… Was that all it was?

She could also choose the Blue Lions, but something felt incomplete. Though her thoughts for Dimitri felt warm, there was... resistance. Tearing through the overgrowth of dread that tinged her vision, just to see a strained smile as it tried to piece her together...

And the Golden Deer...

Byleth stopped at the stairwell that led to the second story. To Lady Rhea. Maybe she should have at least spoken with Claude, but his practiced nature struck her as something to watch out for. He was indirect. Guarded. Eyes constantly roving the room would never be as relaxed as they pretended.

Edelgard was guarded as well, but Byleth couldn’t help but feel impressed by her. Drawn to her. To Dimitri as well, but not as much as Hresvelg heir.

And not drawn at all to Claude.

Byleth decided to push her guild away. To trust her instincts. With no visions to follow, she felt she headed in the wrong direction. Ignoring them was not an option. As long as she--

“Already decided which class will be the envy of the academy?”

Byleth spun, hand still on the wall by the stair. Looming confidently in the hall, Claude von Riegan smiled at her. A thin smile, baring no teeth. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, hands open and empty. “Something along the lines of, ‘But Claude, I have yet to find the time to ask you about the enigmatic Golden Deer house.’ Don’t worry! That’s why I came to you as soon as I could.”

Byleth gripped the wall tighter. She felt caught, and she realized why his smile unnerved her: she kept waiting for it to drop. To match the careful distrust in his eyes. “You looked busy before,” she said.

“Oh, that was just breakfast. But don't mind me if you’ve already decided. Need to head to the infirmary anyway.” He began rubbing his arm. “I hope Hilda didn’t break a bone. She doesn’t look it, but she is _strong_.”

Byleth eyed his normal looking arm. He didn’t favor it, he didn’t wince, he didn’t do much of anything with it but shrug good-naturedly. “I saw Hilda hit your shoulder.”

“Did she? Ah, well, best check it out anyway. Besides, then I can tell you a little about my classmates, even if it’s just for the trip upstairs.”

 _In a battle, it’s better to control the terrain yourself._ Her father’s advice rang clear in her head _. Try to lead them somewhere where you have the upper hand. If you can’t manage that, just don’t get caught in their trap._

She didn’t come to him, so he would wedge in where he could. Having her walk him to the infirmary mean he would control the field, to try and change her mind. But guilt at passing him by still ate at her stomach. She took another look into Claude’s verdant eyes, past the walls, past the suspicion...

Edelgard’s eyes were sharp, Dimitri’s eyes were intent.

Claude’s had something to prove.

“…Come this way.” Byleth strode past Claude and through the closest set of doors. They opened onto the open-air bridge leading up to the cathedral, a slight wind tugging at her coat. Here the world was bright with sunshine and somber stone. The cathedral towered overhead, it’s spires and tapestries like fingers reaching for the Goddess.

When she turned, Claude also gazed up at the cathedral behind her completely forgetting his arm. She caught his eye. He smiled. “Do I start now?”

“Not yet,” said Byleth. She wanted to think of a question to catch him off guard, but from the look of it, he never was. “How long have you been at the monastery?”

“How long?” Claude blew out a puff of air and put his hands behind his head. “Two weeks almost? As long as his and her Highnesses, but a week longer than the other students.”

“And what do you think of this place?”

“Well, it’s ancient but cozy. Definitely colder weather than I’m used to.” After a pause, Claude turned to face the wind. “It’s probably from being in the mountains. Derdriu is by the ocean, so I suppose I miss the salty air. Even if I was just getting used to it."

...Every answer birthed a new question. “Where did you live before Derdriu?”

Claude’s brow flicked up, but then he chuckled, flat and low. “Wait, hold on...” He pointed a finger. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?”

Byleth flinched. “I’m not testing you.”

“Sure, and I don’t look just _dashing_ in this snazzy yellow cape. That is to say, you obviously are. Though for what, I can’t imagine...” Watching her, he shrugged. “Unless you’re trying to get back at me for something I said or did. If it’s something like that, it’s only right I apologize.”

Guilt flashed through Byleth, then sank like a metal lump in her stomach. “…No, Claude. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She took a shallow breath. Odd, this guilt was. Even without the visions, she couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, she watched the horizon, pine trees sloping into the fields below. “In truth, I should apologize to you. I’ve been acting strange.”

Claude frowned. “Strange?”

“Strange for me,” Byleth explained quietly. Of course, she was always “strange” to begin with. It was only a problem when someone looked down on her. For her placid temper, her cold stare. When her fellow mercenaries called her a demon, she never felt like one. But something about under Claude’s searching eyes made her feel more than ever like an oddity.

She didn’t like the feeling.

“I see...” came Claude’s musing. “And if I may ask, exactly how long have things been strange for you?”

“Since I arrived.” _Since we met,_ she wanted to say. But he couldn’t be the cause. “There’s something about Garreg Mach that confuses me. I can’t figure it out, but no one else seems to notice.” Byleth took another breath. She didn’t want to explain when she couldn’t understand it herself.

Claude, for once, had nothing to say. He dropped his gaze, lost in thought.

Byleth didn’t have more to say either. “Perhaps it will be like the salty air in Derdriu. I’ll get used to it soon enough.” Unease still pricked at her skin, but it was inescapable. With a halfhearted nod, she passed him and headed back to the stairs.

“You know...” he said. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”

His words stopped her.

“Honestly, I’m relieved someone else shares the weird vibes I have about this place. This monastery is full of history, which is another word for secrets. Can you imagine all the mysteries they’ve used as mortar just to build this place?” He went on without pause. “And while I’m at it, there are other questions I have: You were just a traveling mercenary, right? Why choose you as a professor?”

The silent questions that perplexed Byleth fell freely from Claude’s lips. She turned. “My father once worked as a knight,” was her only explanation.

“That _is_ something I’ve heard, but what does that do with you?”

The wind started to pick up. Cold air chilled her face. “I don’t know. Lady Rhea never said.”

Victorious, Claude shrugged lightly. His posture relaxed, but his eyes were still intense. “Well, if I were you, that’s something I’d want to figure out. But since I’m _me,_ I might investigate anyway. It’s bold to say it out in the open, but I’m rather fond of less than typical routes to find what I need. Of course, others would call it sneaking around...”

“Should a house leader be sneaking around?” Byleth asked.

Pausing, Claude glanced left and right. The bridge was still empty, the wind pulsing louder. He leaned in. “If it’s a secret worth hiding, it’s also worth knowing.”

And there it was. Mysteries. Secrets. The less than typical route. Byleth’s instincts were to confront this mystery head on, but you couldn’t seize the ungraspable by obvious means…

With her silence, Claude leaned back. “Now I’ve always been... a little too curious for my own good, but that look in your eyes tells me you understand. Seems we’re not that different at all.” For once, his smile looked warm, not stretched on his face like a mask. “Oh, but I’ve used all your time. You should probably report back to Rhea.”

It was the first time Byleth heard someone ignore the archbishop’s title. Amusement tickled in her ribs. “There’s still time. She said to take all the time I needed.”

“Perfect! Now we can gossip about the other little things that bother us.” He snuck in a wink. “Or, if you want to be productive, you could listen to me wax poetic about how great my classmates are...?”

Tilting her head, Byleth crossed her arms. “Will you start with yourself?”

“Aha! I’ve caught your eye at last." Claude’s practiced smile perked up again, satisfaction plain in his glittering eyes. “But how fair is that, giving up all my secrets right away? Learning about each other little by little would make the year far more interesting, wouldn't you agree?”


	10. Deer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some soul searching. Revamped my outline. Added more chapters.
> 
> You're welcome.

Claude had several rules of thumb he lived by. His favorite: Always dig out the other person’s weakness before they stumbled onto your own. Hopefully, he had sanded all _his_ down by now.

But with Byleth, it proved a challenge: She was impossible to read, equal parts weakness and strength. And they found only minor common ground after their chat. The things she found strange weren’t at all what puzzled Claude. But when she looked so impressed he would voice his doubts at all, they all... spilled out of him. A fair trade, he hoped. Maybe some vulnerability would be the key to winning her over as the Golden Deer’s professor.

As it was... He’d just have to wait.

Currently, they all waited. His happy Golden Deer, scattered about their homey little classroom. Some scoured through bookshelves (Lysithea), others doodled on desks (Hilda), and most chatted together in the center of the room. Claude lounged with his feet propped across the long bench, watching them over the top of his book.

“Is it, um...” Ignatz muttered, “strange to be nervous to meet our new professor...?” He was the second son of a merchant family, and best suited for the moniker of deer for how timid he was. Friendly, not a threat.

“It’s not weird at all,” Leonie replied, smacking his shoulder. She was friendly too, but no slouch. Competitive, agile, though just a girl from a southern village. _Could_ be a threat. “I mean, no one’s even told us who it will be yet. Imagine if, somehow, we got Captain Jeralt to be our teacher.”

Ignatz frowned. “Wait, I’m sorry. _Who_ is Captain Jeralt?”

“He’s the leader of those mercenaries that came in here the other day. I used to train under him! Sure, it’s unlikely, but then our training is sure to be worth the tuition.”

“…If we’re talking about who we want as a professor,” Hilda began. Oh, most definitely a threat, but also the person least likely to do anything about it. Hopefully. Maybe. “Professor Manuela would be fun to have! Better than that stuffy old Hanneman.” She spun in her seat. “Don’t you think so, Marianne?”

Marianne looked up with a start. “H-huh? Oh...” She paused with downcast eyes. Despite being the daughter of the shrewd Count Edmond, she was so scattered and nervous that Claude could only feel sorry for her. No threat. “I don’t really... have a preference.”

Lysithea sighed. Loudly. “Professor Hanneman may be older, but that doesn’t mean he would be a bad or _stuffy_ teacher.” She returned to her seat with an impressive stack of books, which she carefully placed on her desk. Intelligent, an only child, and youngest in the whole monastery, not just in the class. No threat. Unless Claude felt like teasing her. _Then_ she was a threat. “While Professor Manuela is sure to have the same training, I don’t have much confidence in her if _you_ want her so you can avoid work.”

“Oh, boo,” Hilda whined. She spared a glance toward Leonie, watching, but quickly switched to whispering to Marianne.

“ _Psssst._ Hey, Claude?”

Claude glanced up, and up. Raphael towered over him, a veritable beast of a man if it weren’t for the fact his heart was purest in all the land. No threat, and once Claude heard about what happened to his parents, he wanted to take the big guy under his wing. “Yes, Raph, something wrong?” he asked with a smile.

“I just have a question,” Raphael whispered loudly. “If I needed to eat while we were in class, which professor do you think would most likely let me…?”

A deep, nasal voice grated against Claude’s ears. “Is _that_ your main concern, Raphael? How is it that your mind is still in the dining hall when we have just returned from our morning meal…?”

Claude kept his smile, shaking his head. “It’s a serious concern, Lorenz,” he said, facing him. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been forced to sit in a room for hours on end, your stomach eating its way out of your body. It’s the cruelest torture known to man! Right, Raphael?”

“Then I can assume _you_ have?” Lorenz pursed his thin lips. “A noble must never skip a meal! Failure to take care of oneself is indicative of how one might govern. The only wise decision would be to ensure-”

“I think he’ll be going on for a while,” Claude turned back to Raphael, closing his book. “Back to your question: I have the feeling Manuela would be more forgiving overall. Doesn’t mean she’ll want you to do it. But if you’re sneaky, I bet we can find a way to get those big muscles fed anytime you needed it.”

“Really?” Raphael’s smile beamed. “That’d be awesome!”

“Ludicrous, you mean.” Lorenz scoffed. “Even more so is a house leader scheming up how to sneak lunch into a lecture.”

Wearing his thinnest smile yet, Claude turned back to Lorenz. The man would go on for hours to lecture him, that much was clear. The biting feeling at his ankles every time he spoke was enough to make Claude feel a little homesick. And with every passing moment, the circulating rumors about the Gloucesters felt more and more true, though he had no concrete proof yet.

Maybe, instead of tolerating him, Claude should thank Lorenz. Not for his family’s more than probable hand in his uncle’s death. But for the chance for him to be here at all…

“Oh…!” Ignatz’s gasp was loud enough to capture the room’s attention. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to ignore you. You’re that mercenary, aren’t you?”

Claude’s ears perked. Slowly, he turned to the door, rising to his feet.

“My name is Byleth,” the mercenary said. She was already in the center of the class, eyes darting about the room. Her shoulders were squared, her expression flat but surprisingly focused.

“Then you’re Captain Jeralt’s daughter…!” Leonie’s eyes gleamed. “Wow, it’s great to meet you!”

Lysithea walked up to the group with a suspicious frown. “Sorry to assume, but are you sure you’re in the right place? If you’re lost, I would be happy to assist you with finding your way.”

“I’m not lost…” Though Byleth didn’t seem to believe her own words.

Watching silently, Claude raised a brow as she fielded more questions. She didn’t seem ready to voice why she was here, but to him there could only be one reason.

“It’s kind of weird for her to show up here of all places,” Hilda whispered, appearing by his side.

“Is it?” Claude mused. “As I see it, she always pops up wherever I happen to be.”

“Uh huh, yet you look like you know what’s going on.” She poked him in the ribs. “Don’t play dumb.”

He just shrugged. “I could say the same to you.”

Hilda frowned, squinting at him. She almost had it, he could tell.

“Look, we’re all here, waiting patiently for a certain _someone_ to walk into the room. When in comes…”

“Then, is she…?”

He shot her a wink.

Hilda gasped, her mouth stuck in a tall _oh_ shape. She smacked his arm, and then flounced over to the rest of the class. “Hold on a second!” She took Byleth’s hands in her own. “Are you going to be our new professor?!”

All eyes fell on her. Byleth flinched a touch but stood her ground. She nodded, and the class burst into uproar.

“Is that true?! But you arrived here later than we did. Wouldn’t you need to have some sort of credential to teach?”

“Lysithea, who cares? It’s like the next best thing to having Captain Jeralt! I can’t wait to learn everything he’s taught you.”

“Wait, but how can _you_ be our new professor? You’re so small and scrawny!”

“She may look small, Raphael, but don’t forget! She saved my life.” Claude joined his circle of classmates with a smile. By no means did the class quiet down when he spoke, but that was part of the charm of this rag tag group. “Does this mean you picked our class to get to know me better? I’m flattered, really, I am.”

Eyes on the ceiling, Lorenz shook his head. “Or perhaps, Claude,” he said, “she’s here to ensure that you stay out of trouble?”

“Both of you, just stop.” Hilda tutted. “Maybe our new professor thought our class would be more fun than the other ones, so don’t make her uncomfortable with your bickering.” She turned and smiled warmly. “Welcome, Professor Byleth! We’re all looking to this next year with you.”

“Thank you,” Byleth muttered. She paused, looking each student in the eye. There was a slight wince, and then a deep breath. “I know I’m not what anyone expected, but Lady Rhea-” She glanced at Claude. “-has put her trust in me to lead you. We’ll work hard together to prepare you all for your futures outside of the academy… By the Goddess’s will.”

The class nodded along, though Hilda wilted a little to hear _we’ll work hard._

…Sounded like she was reciting someone else’s words. Byleth wasn’t one for public speaking, and she showed it. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Claude wore a smile. “And don’t worry about being new to the teaching thing. We’re brand new students, ourselves. Any doubts you may have? Perfectly natural. Through my long life, I’ve learned there’s always more to gain through the…. Less than typical route.”

The others looked at him strangely, but Byleth’s usually uncertain gaze turned to steel. At least she understood him, his hidden promise, and that’s all he needed.

He would help her out, if she would put her trust in him.

“You won’t regret picking the Golden Deer, and we’re all more than excited to call you our professor. Though if you don’t mind…” He snuck in a wink. “I think I’ll just call you Teach.”


	11. Teach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidental hiatus is over 😌 I had a crazy few months, but I’m aiming for regular updates again.

**-Day 28 of the Great Tree Moon-**

**-Morning-**

It was before the first day of class.

Byleth dreamed in fitful peace, floating on her back in that familiar red, staring up at the empty throne. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Whispers crawled over her skin, begging her attention, but she could not give it.

Who would _want_ to sit atop those stairs? Surrounded by darkness and nothing else? The light, eerie in its pallid green, looked less like a beacon and more like a stain.

Soon, a wooden ceiling replaced the ominous stone. Dim morning light peeked through slatted windows, splaying onto the empty desk and musty rug in her new bedroom. Birds muttered from around the monastery, but otherwise, no living thing stirred.

Byleth impassively counted the wooden planks above her head. She felt calm, relieved that her dreams were just as she remembered. The inexplicable throne was at least usual in its unusualness. Better than the scraping cry of death in her mind. Better than her body stiffening like a living corpse.

If she was lucky, she’d never have those visions again… It was why she picked _this_ house, after all.

After getting dressed and having a light breakfast, she entered the already bustling Golden Deer classroom. Cheerful faces greeted her, taking their conversations with them as they wandered to their seats.

But Byleth had a different idea. “Line up in front of my desk,” she said.

Quickly, they did, but it wasn’t an even or silent line. It struck her how _colorful_ her new students were. Intentionally or not, the more bashful personalities stood out compared to the bolder ones. Different heights, different builds, different pasts… Where could she even start to teach them all?

The second one down the line was the young woman with long pigtails, a short skirt, and near perfect posture. The lightest touch of makeup brought attention to her pale, expressive eyes. She carefully raised her hand. “Excuse me, professor, but… why are we all lined up like this?”

…Byleth would need to get used to that title. “I wanted to get to know each of you a little better. And to make sure I know your names.”

“Oh! Well, I’m Hilda!” She gave a small wave, bouncing on her feet. She had her arm linked with a taller student who didn’t share her enthusiasm. “Don’t worry too much about me. I won’t be any trouble.”

Confused, Byleth nodded. She started again at the beginning where Claude stood at mock attention. “Teach,” he warned, “if you already forgot my name, I’d be very hurt.”

Byleth stared at him for a long moment before she flatly replied, “Good morning, Claude.” She moved down past Hilda, stopping at the student hooked to her side. Unkempt blue hair framed dark shadows under brown eyes, which stared with discomfort into the distance. She leaned into the girl’s line of sight. “You’re Marianne, right?”

Marianne flinched and looked pointedly at the floor. “Y-yes. Good morning, Professor.”

“You don’t look well,” Byleth said, trying to catch her eye. “Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

Hilda chimed in. “Oh, she’s just nervous! First day jitters, and all that.” She tugged at the other’s arm in encouragement. “Right, Marianne?”

With twitching lips, Marianne forced herself to look at Byleth. She kept her head ducked low, deepening the shadows on her face. “I’m not sick, s-so yes. Just nervous…”

Byleth bit the inside of her lip, but nodded and moved on. A prickling under her skin endeared her to the girl. Haunted eyes darting away… Wasn’t that her own problem these days?

The prickling persisted as she moved on, her attention settling on silver hair and sharp, pink eyes. The girl stood tall with her short height, waiting with impatience. Sadly, Byleth couldn’t recall the name. As she opened her mouth, the prickling pinched at her ribs.

THE corners of her vision soon filled with BRIGHT sunlight. SALT from an imaginary sea filled her lungs, pushing COLD winds against her skin. CLANKING metal split the EERIE quiet in the EMPTY, sun-bleached port.

BEFORE HER was just one soldier, radiating all-consuming MAGIC—

Byleth closed her mouth and swallowed. Not _here._ Not now…

“Excuse me, Professor. Do you…” The student analyzed her in return, finding her lacking. “need me to introduce myself?”

Byleth, embarrassed, nodded. “Could you?”

“…Lysithea von Ordelia.” She bowed her head with impeccable manners. “Tell me, Professor, do you have much experience with magic? It’s a subject I’ve been looking forward to learning more about this year.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Byleth pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid I’m not the person to ask.”

Lysithea frowned but shrugged. “I suspected as much. I suppose I’ll have to continue studying on my own, then.”

Claude poked his head out of line. “You know, if your young mind needs enriching,” he began, a playful grin on his face. “I’d be happy to teach you everything I don’t know about magic.”

Pouting, Lysithea glared at him. “I was talking to the _professor,_ Claude. And offering everything you _don’t know_ proves you’re the last person I should even ask.”

“Ouch,” he hissed, wincing dramatically. “I mean you’re right, but ouch!”

“Quiet, please,” Byleth said against the ripple of chuckles from the students. Her words came out harsher than she intended as she waded past her displaced nerves.

The prickling from before was growing.

Her chest squeezed tight.

Byleth let out a slow breath. Just a few more students. She could make it through.

Glancing down the line, she was surprised the other names jumped to her mind. Raphael was next, then Lorenz, who looked primly sour to have a spot so late in line. Leonie’s leg bounced impatiently as she stood, and Ignatz flashed a polite smile when their eyes met, but nerves were plain on his face.

“Raphael,” Byleth turned back to him. “I saw you in the dining hall during breakfast. You had about a day’s worth of food on your plate, which is… impressive.”

“Oh, you saw that?” He said, genuinely pleased. “I couldn’t help myself. The food at Garreg Mach is great! Next time, you should fill up, too.”

“Perhaps… But I usually eat light.” Byleth felt the prickling creep up again, this time stronger. Blue tinged her sight. Smoke curled in her lungs. She swallowed it back with a frown.

“Aw, it won’t be so bad. I could even make you a plate! You’re kind of scrawny, but if you eat like me, we could get you bulked up in no time.”

A muffled snort from Claude punctuated Byleth’s disbelief. She sized up Raphael amid her stupor. His clothes seemed ready to rip if he so much as breathed too deeply. She didn’t want the same problem. “What do you eat, exactly?”

Claude spoke instead. “Anything and everything, Teach.”

Raphael threw his head back in a laugh. “No, not _everything._ Just whatever I need to keep these muscles in tip top shape!” Then he flexed, the cloth stretching and pulling across his physique. Almost impressed, Byleth tensed at the sudden snap of thread.

A wooden button shot into the air, aiming for her head.

Instinct pushed her to the ground-

BYLETH TWISTED TOWARDS THEIR FLANK AND CALLED OUT ORDERS TO DEFEND. SOLDIERS FROM BOTH SIDES CLASHED, DRENCHED IN THE HEADY SMELL OF DIRT AND BLOOD, OF STEEL AND SWEAT.

THE ENEMY COMMANDER HAD ORDERED A BLITZ WHILE THEY WERE DISTRACTED. IN THEIR ARMY’S ENTHUSIASM TO ADVANCE, THEY FAILED TO WATCH THEIR BACKS. THIS WAS A MISTAKE. ALL OF IT. NOW THEY—

AN ENORMOUS SHADOW CHARGED. SOLDIERS WERE THROWN BACK BY THE BARRAGE OF BRAWLERS. ONE OF WHICH TOOK THE LEAD. THE MAN, A BEAST OF PURE MUSCLE, RAMMED HIS GAUNTLETED FIST INTO HER VICE-CAPTIAN’S GUT, KNOCKING HIM INTO THE AIR.

BYLETH DARTED BACK. THE REST OF HER UNIT SPREAD OUT TO COVER THE NEW THREAT, TO PROTECT THE MAGES BEHIND THEM.

SUDDENLY, THE SHADOW WAS ON HER. THE BEAST THREW HIS FIST, COLLIDING WITH BYLETH’S SKULL. MOMENTUM THREW HER TO THE GROUND, BUT SHE CAUGHT ENOUGH TO SWING HERSELF BACK TO HER FEET.

THEY STOOD FACE TO FACE.

EXPRESSIVE GOLD EYES LOCKED ON HERS, FLASHING WITH SURPRISE AND SORROW. THEN THE MAN GRUNTED AS HE CHARGED AGAIN, GAUNTLET RAISED.

THE SWORD IN BYLETH’S HAND BURNED WITH CRACKLING LIGHT. SHE BROKE IT INTO A CHAIN AND WITH PRACTICED, COLD EMOTION, SHE DASHED AND RIPPED THE LINKS UP THE BEAST’S CHEST. BLOOD BURST FROM STOMACH TO NECK-

“Raphael! Really?”

Byleth’s throat tightened, awakened by needles pricking her skin. Lorenz’s outraged cry mixed in with gasps and stifled laughter. She stayed low, hands shaking, staring intently at the wooden button on the floor in front of her. The hot, metallic taste of blood singed her tongue.

“It’s one thing to monopolize all of our professor’s attention with your antics,” Lorenz griped, “but to keep your uniform in such disrepair…!”

Footsteps approached her. “A-allow me to apologize for him, Professor. This sort of thing happens often.” Ignatz said, extending a gentle hand.

Byleth ignored it and stood, picking up the button. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Raphael’s torso, still flayed in her mind’s eye. Light chatter echoed around her, silencing when the students saw the harrowed look on their professor’s face.

She held out the button to Raphael. “You dropped this.”

“Oh, uh… Sorry about that.” Gingerly, he took it.

“Change of plans…” Byleth walked back to her desk, refusing eye contact. “Everyone, sit down.”

Slowly, her students did. She kept her back to them, willing her body calm with measured, steady breaths. Gripping her sword hand, the echo of that glowing blade was still etched in her palm. It was happening again. But it made no sense. Before, these visions came only when she was around Edelgard or Dimitri. Even with Lady Rhea, but it only happened once…

_I thought I was escaping it. But it followed me here._

When Byleth turned, her class watched with worried, expectant stares. Would she explain herself? Could she? Knowing this group, if she waited too long, they would all bombard her with questions she had no answers to.

She needed to try something else. “Without talking, raise your hand"—She raised hers— “if you have ever held a weapon before.”

A moment’s silence, then all eight lifted a hand. A few held it high, while some nervously glanced around. No one voiced the shared question on each of their faces.

“Keep it raised if you’ve ever used it on a living creature.”

Most lowered them. Leonie, Lorenz, and Claude kept theirs raised.

“If you’ve ever taken a life.”

His hand lazily raised, Claude leaned back when the others lowered theirs. Muted whispers shuffled through the class.

Byleth locked eyes with him, unsurprised. He had dropped a bandit with an arrow in the throat when they met. But with his unfazed expression now, she had to wonder. “Thank you,” she said, lowering her hand.

Claude smiled and lowered his too.

She walked to the front of her desk, leaning against it with her arms crossed. “Growing up, I traveled all over Fodlan with my father. He taught me my letters at the same time as swordsmanship, fishing, things like that. I’ve hunted wolves and giant hawks. And I’ve killed bandits. So, forgive me. I’m not used to being in any kind of school…

“I’ve also helped to protect merchants and find lost pets in the woods. Most of our work came from smaller villages who couldn’t keep their own militia. I’ve seen a lot, done a lot, but if I’m honest, I don’t know if I should be anyone’s professor.”

Their rapt attention made Byleth uneasy, though the prickling from before had worn off. She was used to being a curiosity to others, but not to this many eyes at once.

She took a breath. She didn’t _know_ what she was trying to say, but the words kept coming. “I don’t know magic, or what it’s like to grow up as nobility. But I know how to survive. How to protect my life and to protect those in my care. I didn’t ask that question to scare you. But you need to be ready. You’ll soon be in charge of other trained soldiers, and to protect life, sometimes you take it. No retries if you fail. You can only…”

Byleth trailed off, suddenly doubting her words. The scar across her chest and face was proof there were no retries. But before that axe bit into her skin, she had a near perfect premonition. Word for word, motion for motion. It didn’t fill her with fear or loathing. It brought focus.

_Why was it different?_

“Teach.”

Byleth snapped back to reality. Claude leaned forward with his hands bridged to prop up his chin. He silently motioned for her to continue, listening with hungry attention.

“…You can only prepare for what you know, and plan for what you don’t. It goes further than instinct. It can be learned. If it’s overwhelming, focus on taking care of each other, then they can take care of you.”

With that, Byleth stepped from the desk. “For the rest of class, I want each of you to write a short letter. What are your skills? Where do you think you can improve? We only have the year, after all, so I suppose…” She shrugged lightly. “We’ll make it count. Please, begin.”

Byleth returned to her chair as her class got to work, and the spell of silence was finally broken. It was a more somber scene than when she entered, but she couldn’t think of any other way to transition away from her… moment.

_My first lecture as a professor. I hope I didn’t scare them too much._

Byleth sat and pressed her hands into fists, staring at the items on her desk. Books about curriculum, small painted tokens, a simple field map laid across the desk. For the upcoming mock battle? Lady Rhea had spoken of it earlier, and there were only a few days to prepare. She smoothed out the map. Fading paint and artistic details told her it was old and well used. Definitely an improvement from lines scratched in the dirt before clearing a den of giant wolves. Rocks as her comrades, tree bark as their enemy. Now carved tokens with flecks of missing paint represented the students in her care.

She held one up to her face, rolling it between her thumb and middle finger. Instead of veteran sellswords, hardened by long nights on the road, she had the children of nobles and merchants at her back, relying on her guidance and protection.

Losing one was more than a reflection of their own weaknesses.

But of hers, too.

_…I must lead them well._

She set the token down and started to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda relate to Byleth here. I once had a job as an afterschool teacher, but I had 0 training before they put me in charge of a classroom... Wrangling a bunch of 4th graders is as stressful as fending off visions and training teenagers for war.
> 
> Next chapter, we’ll get a much needed booster shot of dimiclaude 👌 Stay tuned!


End file.
